


Walk Before Stopping

by thought



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/pseuds/thought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-mission Carolina has yet to hit the adrenaline crash. Four Seven Niner can work with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk Before Stopping

"Are you flirting with me?"

Carolina sets her helmet down on the floor out of the way and shakes out her ponytail. "If you have to ask."

Four Seven twists around in her seat, post-flight checks completed. The rest of the team has already vanished from the Pelican, tired and complaining after the fucking endless hours of stress that the mission had become. Carolina hasn't hit the crash yet, spent the flight back from the extraction point trying not to vibrate right out of her skin.

"Hey, I'm just checking. Wouldn't want to cast aspersions on the professionalism of our glorious leader."

Carolina licks sweat off her upper lip and turns away. "If you're not interested I can go find York."

Niner grabs the end of her ponytail. "Yeah, lemme know how that goes for you."

Carolina glances over her shoulder very deliberately, stares at the gloved hand wrapped around her hair. "You might want to let go. I here you need both hands to be a decent pilot." She means it as a threat, but the other woman just chuckles and gives a quick tug before letting go.

"Shows what you know about biomechanics. Come on, get your armour off, I'm not fucking around with all that."

"You're confident."

"I don't see you walking away."

Carolina pops the seals on her chest piece even as she glares. Niner's armour comes off faster-- she's got quick, precise hands to go along with her smart mouth (Carolina absolutely has a type, it's a problem) but also her armour's a lot less complex than the Freelancers' suits. Carolina winds up with her undersuit caught around her shins attempting to maintain her dignity when Four Seven, naked but for her boots, barrels into her and tips back against the wall. The bruises across her shoulders howl in protest and her teeth snap down on the pain before she can stop it. Four Seven grabs her hand and squeezes hard enough that the bones grind together. Her other hand presses down firm over the skin of Carolina's ribcage, just under her breast. Carolina shuffles, tries to get her balance back and kick the heavy fabric off her legs, but Niner just shoves her back, leans her shoulder into Carolina's chest like she's a door she’s trying to keep closed. It's not intimate but for the ways that it is, the unapologetic physicality of one body against another, the ways that skin and bone and muscle can hold you up or down or steady no matter who it belongs to. Niner leans away, their flesh like waves breaking against a shore in a storm. She presses Carolina's hand against the cold metal of the wall.

"Stay."

Carolina opens her mouth and Niner's fingers push the words back in before they can escape, taste of oil and smoke heavy on her tongue. She thinks about bighting. Isn't sure what kind of cliché she's playing, can't settle her mind or her body long enough to figure out what the expected choice is meant to be. Adrenaline coats the inside of her throat and the vulnerable skin of her inner arms, tingling static leaving her breathless and light-headed. Niner pulls her fingers out of her mouth and shoves them between her legs with no fanfare, two fingers pushing into Carolina with a roughness that speaks more to care than a lack of it. Carolina pushes down, pushes back, brings both hands up and gets a hold on slim shoulders, uses the leverage to get close enough to her neck to scrape her teeth across the fragile skin of her throat.

"Actual fucking worst," Niner grumbles, pulling her fingers out and shoving them back in again at the same time she pinches down hard on Carolina's nipple. "I fuckin' told you to stay."

Carolina laughs breathlessly. "I'd say you'd have to make me, but I think you've seen my hand-to-hand scores."

"Yeah yeah, we're all very impressed." The weird thing is, she sounds a bit like she actually means it. Carolina digs her fingertips into Niner's shoulders, drags trails over knotted muscles and tattoos she can't get a good look at. Niner uses the hand not keeping up an uncompromising rhythm between Carolina's legs to curl lightly around her throat, tipping her head back against the wall. The kiss is more a clashing of teeth than anything, a mess of bighting and swearing and laughing even as Carolina finds it harder to catch a second to suck in air. Her face feels hot, her mind sort of floaty like she's caught just above her physical body, hanging suspended in the climate-controlled air above her own head. She's caught between the unforgiving pressure between her legs and the erratic, demanding pressure at her mouth.

"Come on, come on," Niner mutters, and Carolina's pretty sure it's the same tone she takes with her Pelican when she's pushing the engines to capacity. Strands of hair stick to Carolina’s shoulders and back. Niner pulls back from the kiss but her hand is still cupped over Carolina's throat, and it's strange, the way it feels like protection rather than threat, like she's making a tiny shield to hide the exposed vulnerability. Carolina watches the muscles in her upper arm work, matches her breathing to the flex and the resulting press of callused fingers inside her and thinks maybe if she could just drag her heartbeat down to this same percussive measurement of time she might be able to pull all the parts of herself back together. Niner works her thumb over Carolina's clit hard, giving her something to press forward on as hard as she needs until she snaps taught, head rolling to the side and mouth hanging open. The pilot gives her about five seconds to come down before she rubs again, sharp and quick and relentless until Carolina’s body is jerking through a second orgasm, twitching with aftershocks even after the touch has stopped entirely.

"Christ," she says, once she can form actual coherent words. Niner finally takes the hand away from her throat. Carolina shivers hard, like she's been woken up with a bucket of cold water.

"I'd say you could return the favour, but I think I broke you."

"Fuck you," Carolina says automatically, and lets her legs give out under her, slamming down onto her knees with a jarring sort of pain that spiderwebs out through her spine and into the roots of her teeth. She smirks up at Niner where the other woman is blinking down at her.

"What? You didn’t think I'd get on my knees?"

"Remind me to send you some articles on reverse psychology later."

"That's enough full sentences out of you," Carolina grumbles, and braces a hand on the other's thigh before she leans in and puts her mouth to work. Niner stays remarkably still, though the steady stream of curses she keeps up is a pretty good indication that Carolina's doing something right. After a minute, Carolina reaches up and grabs one of her hands, bringing it to the back of her head.

"Jesus," Niner hisses, digging fingers into her hair.

Carolina pulls back briefly. "I'm not doing all the fucking work, here."

Niner's still wearing her boots. Carolina's brain catches on the detail like a zipper snagged on fabric even as her jaw begins to ache and a second hand joins the first on her head. She focuses in on the slick skin under her tongue, the easy slide down into a mindless rhythm like landing hits on a punching bag or counting footfalls on a run.

Niner tugs her back by the hair after a while. Carolina thinks she must've come, because her legs are shaking and she’s got a stupid grin like she's just won the lottery with bonus puppy and ice-cream cone. Carolina's pulse is something closer to steady, her breath coming even and deep. The pins and needles beneath her skin demanding movement have retreated.

"Is there anything you're not good at?" Niner asks.

"Nope," Carolina lies, grinning. She's pretty sure if she tries to stand up she'll just fall over. She's back in her body, at least, but still lightheaded. She tips forward a bit until her cheek and temple are resting against Niner's hipbone. She smells like sweat and sex and something faintly minty. Niner smoothes fingers gently through her hair, rubbing her shoulders, letting a hand come to rest at the back of her neck.

"You did good today," she says after a while. Carolina blinks slow and lethargic.

"I know."

Niner huffs a soft chuckle. “Yeah. But sometimes I think you still need to hear it."


End file.
